


you're the light spilling through the cracks in me

by poisonquiver



Category: Julie and The Phantoms (TV)
Genre: Arguing, Character Death, Character Study, Gen, Original Character(s), Originally Posted on Tumblr
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2020-10-02
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:21:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26768674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poisonquiver/pseuds/poisonquiver
Summary: Some kids get parents who love each other.Reggie just happens to not be one of those kids.
Comments: 14
Kudos: 151





	you're the light spilling through the cracks in me

There's a picture on the mantle above the fireplace of a family that doesn't exist anymore. Not to Reggie, at least.

It's of him, with his parents and his older brother, Dean at a State Fair. There'd been an Old Timey Booth set up and Reggie had begged his mom to take him there, and naturally the entire family had to go too.

(They'd been a family like that once.)

In the picture, they're all smiling, crowded around Reggie, astride an actual horse, wearing ridiculous fake mustaches and cowboy hats, looking blissfully happy and stupidly serene.

Reggie has no idea who those people even are anymore.

(The words you scream at him I try to drown out with the beating of hooves)

They'd been happy then, those four people in the frame, content and carefree.

And then his mom lost her job.

(The sounds of the fair, your laughter, anything I can remember, because it has to be better than this)

His dad has been a work from home dad, something the kids at school liked to mock him for, but he'd never really cared about, until the day he had to.

(You're happy here, aren't you? With funnel cake and cheer? It's the last time you've smiled and meant it.)

It's painfully obvious that their mom doesn't have a clue on how to run a household. Their dad had been the one who kept a tight ship, and now they're set adrift without an anchor.

"Dad didn't do it like that." Dean says once, pissed off because he had to cancel with Aretha, the girl he'd been trying to get with all summer, because _it's not in the budget right now, sweetheart, I'm so sorry._

"Yeah, well when your mother worked, you could afford to go on _dates_!" She retaliates, tone black and heavy.

Dean stomps off, and Reggie, hidden on the stairs, tries to make himself invisible.

(You can't tell me you didn't love each other when you kissed on the ferris wheel ~~like some goddamn high school cliche~~ ) 

He begins to miss the fraught silences at the dinner table when the alternative becomes coming home to screaming matches in the living room.

Eventually, he just stops going home.

(The cheery bell of the ice-cream vendor makes you aware of him, and you order a banana split to split, ~~a dad joke, really? Way to be smooth.)~~

Just when Reggie begins to foolishly think things can't get any worse, Dean gets in an accident on a ski trip Mom said yes to and Dad said no to. 

"You saw how moody he's been, Bairre - lurking about and being a general pain in my ass. I thought it would be a good idea to get him out of the house!"

"And look how well that turned out!" His father replies, gesturing at their son in a hospital bed, while Reggie pretends to be absolutely fascinated with his brother's nicked Gameboy.

"Oh, don't pin this on me! He's inherited _your_ bull-headedness!"

They're not yelling but their quiet intensity still has people staring, and Reggie wants to sink into his brother's flannel shirt and just disappear.

"Mom, dad." He pleads, clenching the Gameboy so hard the plastic shifts under his hands, voice sad and broken and desperate. "Not now, _please."_

Miracle of miracles, it works.

(The smell of charcoal as you pose for a caricaturist, who highlights dad's nose and mom's bad tooth to hilarious effects but you both agree that the background is the best part. He's drawn you against a backdrop of a heart, a tiny cupid flying away in the corner. ~~Come back you stupid baby, your work isn't done!~~ )

"You're leaving." He glares somewhere over his brother's shoulder, not daring to make eye contact.

Dean, leg in a thick bulky cast that he's not allowed anyone to sign yet, sighs heavily all the way down to his toes.

"I'm going to college, bud." He ruffles Reggie's hair and does an awkward shuffling hop in order to sit next to his brother and drape an arm over his shoulders. "Not leaving."

"You're leaving me alone." The _with them_ is unsaid, but very heavily implied. 

_"Bud."_ Dean sounds wrecked, burned from the inside out, but it was either the college he's worked his ass off to get a scholarship for, or tortuous insanity. He's not strong enough to stay.

Not even for his brother.

"You've got that band right? With, uh, Jake and uhm, I wanna say Otis?" He knows that's not their names, but it works and Reggie's giggling, falling into his side.

"Not even close, Dean." He whispers, elbowing his brother lightly. "Luke and Alex,"

"That's what I said."

Reggie rolls his eyes.

"Luke _thinks_ we're a band. We're just a bunch of eleven year old kids messing around."

Dean frowns, nudges at Reggie until the boy looks up. "Don't sell yourself short like that. I've heard you guys play. You got a lot of potential." He says honestly, sincerity bleeding through in his tone.

They watch as the sun sets into the ocean in contented silence before Dean brandishes his cast and a marker.

"Sign this for me." He says, wiggling the marker at Reggie, who blinks owlishly.

He takes the marker cautiously, uncapping it with his teeth, and brings it close to the cast. He doesn't make any moves though. "Why? You didn't want anyone to do anything on it before."

Dean leans back on his hands, soaking up the last of the sun's rays.

"You're not _anyone,_ kid." The love in his voice is _loudloudloud_ and Reggie startles at that, a soft smile creeping up on his face.

"Besides, maybe it'll be worth something one day."

(We were having fun right? Guess the fun's over.)

He's 23 and he's standing over his brother's casket, and still his parents can't be assed to put up a united front. They're on either side of him, looking pale and awful, but their disdain for each other (to him at least) is still shining through like an ugly beacon to darken this already bleak day.

His fists are clenched in his pockets, eyes anywhere but on them or the casket.

His gaze lands on the sky, a mocking sun-filled one and wants to curse it out. 

(Home is where the ~~stupid~~ horse is.)

He finds a rough copy of a poem his brother wrote, crumpled up in the bottom of his dresser drawer as he cleans it out, reads it and breaks down.

Reggie was too young to even remember that day, but Dean hadn't been, Dean had told him the story countless times, because he always wanted to hear it, wanted to know that _it hadn't always been like this_ and Dean had been only too happy to oblige.

Dean breaks down and has to wonder how much worse it got after he left, how many nights Reggie spent with his friends, not at home and a lump forms in his throat.

How much worse had it gotten when he left his brother alone?

"You okay, sweetie?" His mom pops her head around the door frame worriedly, but that just makes it worse.

"Fine." He lies, wiping his eyes with the back of his sleeve. _"Dandy,_ even." He gives her a thumbs up, wishes he was brave enough to give her the actual finger he wants to, but she huffs and shuffles off.

He sniffs and gets up, pockets the lyrics and tosses the rest.

He frames it next to Reggie's childish scribble of a signature, shows it to his wife, his twins RJ and Regina, anyone who asks, telling them all about his brother who could have been somebody.

(The horse's name had been Dean, which had sent Reggie into a fit of giggles and earned an eye roll from Dean himself.)

There's a part of the poem Dean doesn't let anyone see, a portion he'd cut off and keeps in a wallet he doesn't use, a birthday gift from Reggie, that he keeps close to his chest.

(Home is where the horse is, if that horse is you.) 


End file.
